


While the Lily White

by amerande



Series: Rumbelle Showdown 1 [1]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Adventure, F/M, PG, Rumbelle Showdown
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-19
Updated: 2014-09-19
Packaged: 2018-02-17 23:19:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2326826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amerande/pseuds/amerande
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rumplestiltskin brings Belle along for a trip. </p><p>My entry (as Bast) for round 1 of the Rumbbelle Showdown. I'm really late getting it up on AO3. <br/>Prompt: Heavy grey mist, alone together, Rumbelle ballroom dance</p>
            </blockquote>





	While the Lily White

“Put down the dust rag, dearie, and fetch your cloak. We're going out.” Rumplestiltskin said it lightly, airily, as if they made frequent trips away from the castle.

“Out?” Belle schooled her features, trying to keep her surprise from showing. Aside from the carriage-ride to track down Robin Hood after he'd stolen one of Rumplestiltskin's wands, Belle had never left the castle grounds.

“Yes, out. I need to gather some ingredients, and it's about time you made yourself useful. I need a large supply, and you shall help me carry.”

Belle smirked and gave a mocking curtsey. “Oh, I  _am_ glad to be able to help. It must have been such a burden, all these years without someone to fetch and carry. However did you manage?”

Rumplestiltskin wrinkled his nose at her. “Nobody likes an impertinent maid,” he said, then shooed her out of the library.

 

Not much later, Belle stood atop a rocky outcropping as the cloud of Rumplestiltskin's magic dissipated. The Dark One sat himself down and surveyed the scene before them. Unsure of what to do, Belle followed suit, craning her neck this way and that to take in her surroundings. Their outcropping overlooked a bay, and a breeze from over the water pushed a thick grey fog onto the land and brought her the tangy scent of saltwater. The late afternoon sun picked out star-shaped flowers in the bushes that grew on the slope down to the water.

Belle, having grown up on the plains, had never seen anything like it. Her sunsets had always been over distant mountains, had never painted a path of gold across the water to the very far horizon. She drank in the view, committing each detail to memory.

Rumplestiltskin seemed content to sit in silence. Long minutes stretched as they sat and observed. The sun dropped lower and lower, the fog crept further in from the sea, and stars began to burn in the darkening sky. The sun sank entirely from view, and still Rumplestiltskin made no move.

All at once, a flickering glow grew in the fog that still covered the slope like a blanket. The brightness grew until everything was quite illuminated, and it was by this light that Belle saw Rumplestiltskin nod and begin to rise.

“That,” he said, pointing with a flourish at the glowing patches of fog, “is what we're here for.” He led Belle down the slope, produced a small silver sickle, and bent down into the fog. When he straightened, Belle saw that the source of the light wasn't the fog itself, but the dainty star-shaped flowers she had seen – flowers which were now shining like the moon itself.

“They're night-lilies,” she breathed. She remembered coming across their description in a book about the flora and fauna to be found all the world over. When she'd read the book, the Ogres War had not yet come to Avonlea, she had been engaged to Gaston, and her whole life had been neatly set out for her. A marriage, a son, and a quiet life within the borders of their town. She had read about all the things that she never imagined she might actually see, including these delicate little flowers, which were said to have properties which encouraged forgetfulness.

“Quite right,” Rumplestiltskin said. Belle wanted to ask what it was he needed forgetfulness for – as she found it unlikely that he merely planned to decorate the Dark Castle – but as he he seemed to be in a quiet mood, she reined in her curiosity.

Rumplestiltskin produced another silver sickle and handed it to her, and without another word, they began harvesting the magical plants.

 

When Belle's arms were full of night-lily cuttings and her hands sticky with their sap, Rumplestiltskin told her they'd gathered enough. With a gesture and a puff of smoke, the cuttings disappeared. Belle kept quiet and didn't point out that his actions gave lie to his pretense of needing help carrying his precious ingredients.

Instead, she plucked one last night-lily and fidgeted with it as she offered the closest thing to thanks she thought Rumplestiltskin might accept: “You know, if I had stayed in Avonlea, I may never have gone more than a day's ride from my father's castle in my whole life... I'd never have seen a sunset like this or gathered night-lilies.”

“And you'd rather gather night-lilies with a beast than sit safely at home and dance on the arm of your beloved – what was his name?”

“Gaston,” Belle responded, “was an indifferent dance partner at best, and he certainly wasn't my  _beloved_ .”

Rumplestiltskin giggled and gave a florid bow, and purple magic surrounded Belle. When it cleared, the beach was transformed into a marble dance floor where smoky courtiers twirled and swayed, with a great crystal chandelier hanging out of the night sky – and in front of Belle, arms outstretched in an invitation to dance, was a towering caricature of Gaston.

She flapped a hand at the simulacrum and brushed past it to face Rumplestiltskin.

“Besides,” she continued, taking Rumplestiltskin's hand with her own and leading him to the center of the marbled floor, “I know you're no beast.” Without another word, she guided his other arm to her waist and started to lead him in a slow, swaying dance.

 

Looking at her as if entranced, Rumplestiltskin let go of the magic holding his illusions in place; the floor returned to earth and stone, the dancing figures fell back into the mist, and the only light came from the stars and the glowing night-lilies.

It was not safe or neat, this new life Belle had chosen. It led her through dark forests and brought her into the company of thieves and sorcerers and who knew what else. But as she danced with Rumplestiltskin, felt his feather-light touch on her waist and watched the light of the stars and night-lilies dance over his features, she felt more hopeful than she ever had before.

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
